I've been meaning to post this story for a while now, but never really got around to it. So here it is!
Disclaimer Dude: Miriku does not own YuGiOh. She only owns the OCs.
It had been ten years since he disappeared; yet the memos with a picture still circulated around Domino City.
Name: Yugi Mutou
Date of Disappearance: March 6th, 1995
Place of Disappearance: Domino City, Japan
Age when Missing: 24
If found, please report immediately to the authorities.
No one ever found where, exactly, the King of Games had gone. Some said he was kidnapped; others said murdered. Many thought he had run away to America. They all agreed on one thing, though; wherever he was, he most likely wasn't coming back.
After hearing the news, his wife, Rebecca Mutou, couldn't stand to live in the city any more. She packed up and moved, taking her only son—Tecuo—with her.
It is now the year 2005. After ten years of living alone, Rebecca decided to move back into Domino City—the place she grew up in, and the place she wanted her son to finish growing up in.
It was nearly midnight. Every light was out in the city—all but one.
In the kitchen of the Kame Game Shop, the light was burning bright. Rebecca, now thirty-two, gazed sadly down at the picture in her hand.
Her face was careworn, with smile creases around her eyes and mouth. Her golden blond hair, touched with silver at the temples, hung down about her face, and her glasses currently rested on the table.
"Yugi," she whispered softly, caressing the photo. "Where are you?"
Upstairs in his room, fourteen-year-old Tecuo tossed and turned in his sleep.
He looked almost exactly like his father had at fourteen. Anyone who had ever seen Yugi at that age would swear up and down that Tecuo was him. The only difference between their appearances was that the edges of Tecuo's hair were blue, instead of magenta. He was even the same height as his father had been.
Tecuo let out a faint whimper, rolling onto his side. "Daddy," he mumbled.
He rolled over again—right off the edge of the bed.
He let out a startled yelp, scrambling to his feet. Grumbling, he straightened his pajamas.
"Tecuo?" It was his mother. "Are you all right in there?"
"I'm fine, Mom," he called back. "Just fell off the bed, is all."
Mrs. Mutou laughed. "You ought to be more careful."
"It wasn't my fault!" he protested.
Another laugh. "If you insist. Now, get some rest—school starts up again tomorrow, and I don't want you sleeping in class!"
He jumped back onto his bed and pulled up the covers, but thoughts raced around in his head.
This nightmare…why do I keep having it?
It was the same every night. He would be a little kid again—maybe around four—and be going downstairs for a drink of water. When he reached the ground floor, he'd hear a crash. Entering the kitchen, he'd see his father—who had long outgrown his height problem—fighting a stranger with a crescent-shaped scar running from the middle of his forehead along the right side of his face to the middle of his chin. His father would shout at him to run—but he would stay right in the door, bemused. And then the stranger would do—something—and his father would be knocked unconscious. And then they were gone, leaving him confused and bemused amid the shattered glass of the window. His mother would come running down the stairs—and scream.
It was always the same, and it had plagued him for as long as he could remember. He had never told anyone—not even his mother.
Why am I always seeing this dream?
It didn't make any sense. And it always seemed so real.
Tecuo let out a yawn. I can worry about it tomorrow, he though drowsily, drifting into sleep.
Unbeknownst to him or his mother, a presence watched the house. It was neither benevolent nor malevolent—merely there; merely watching. In seconds, it disappeared.
And Tecuo Mutou's fate was sealed.
Well? Is it any good? Review, please!